HRT Month 3
Today marks almost three months of HRT, so here I am, writing it down.
The future is still ahead; the present is already here
Time flies. I've already reached the second important milestone. What I wrote in the first month was a little embarrassing, so I never uploaded it. Here's month three instead, meow. Over the past three months, everything has followed its destined course; over the past month, so many unexpected things have happened. But perhaps those, too, were destined.
I've begun to question whether HRT is right for me, but I'm also afraid of letting androgens keep ravaging me if I stop. I can't reach a certain judgment. No one knows whether the other path would be better; I can only make the decision I can make now. As for the future—the future can wait; the present is already here. I might as well think about the problems in front of me: first, family relationships and discrimination; second, the cost and irreversibility of SRS; third, where I belong. More to be continued...
Let's plant hope again
I follow the footsteps of years ago, trying to piece together broken memories. It's college entrance exam season again, and I still can't make sense of that miracle in my final year of high school. Was it those songs, or my stubbornness? Perhaps just talent and luck. Countless times I looked down at the ground, yet kept looking up at the stars, peering across time at all the futures that might be. How long can the good times last~~~~
Perhaps I should thank my past self for laying the financial groundwork for HRT today, even though I lost the chance to start earlier. Maybe a late rebellion isn't such a bad thing.
Listening to songs from years ago: everything has changed, everything is over; before I can speak, my fingers stop above the keys. These expensive headphones still don't sound as good as the wired earphones from that year. It was late spring during the pandemic. I pushed open the car door to a world of lush green, while inside me everything was deathly still. New spring water flowed along the earphone wires into my heart, until that tender shoot broke through the soil and grew toward the sun.
Now my memories have come apart. I can't remember the dawn I once chased, and I've sunk into temporary comfort for so long that even my writing isn't what it used to be. The darkness of depression is slowly eating away at me. Even so, I should resist fate. Let's go back to that time. Hope, hope forgotten—let's plant it again. With a new gender, a gender that belongs to me, let's start living again.
We can go to any city, any country we want. The scroll of the world has only just begun to unfold. I can pass well, prepare for SRS; there's still time ahead to change. Although fate put me in the wrong place, it also let me experience two lives. Only through contrast can I feel what it means to be born anew.
Oh no, my writing really has gone downhill. I can't keep up the act. End of section.
Love yourself before loving someone else
A very immature, very irrational relationship has ended. I suppose I was deceived—someone took advantage of how starved for love I felt during HRT—but I made mistakes too. I wasn't sure enough of my own mind, and that made it easy to control me. In the future, I need more time to calm down and think. Love yourself before loving someone else.
Shopping like crazy, trying to wash it all away with spending. No more pinning my hopes on a partner; I can only rely on myself. Things I spent all these years learning turned out to be wrong.
No need to squeeze every last bit out of a rigid budget. Earning more matters more than cutting back. My childhood taught me to be very frugal, but I'm also moving toward financial independence, so let's treat myself well first.
A gender that belongs to me
Somewhere between genders? But I don't seem to belong here. To put it cautiously, I feel more comfortable on either the male or female side. If I have to choose one, I'd rather be female.
Watching my breasts gradually develop, I feel my real self. During this time on Fuji-brand Japanese estrogen, I've felt cyclical changes in my emotions: desire and dejection, and perhaps a little more understanding of how hard being female can be. Sparser body hair, longer hair on my head, dressing in women's clothes again and again—and finally, when I go out, people often take me for a girl. Just three months, and so much has changed. It hasn't been easy.
After a little more time, my hair will reach the length I want, and I'll be able to live more fully as a woman, beginning my own RLE. Let's look up toward the future for a moment.
Beyond the physical changes, my mind has become calmer than ever before. I'm no longer lost in games. I keep thinking, the way I did in high school. Perhaps suffering gives rise to writing; perhaps estrogen has made me more sensitive. Whatever the reason, I'm moving toward who I was years ago, the threads of fate intertwining again. If I'd taken another educational path back then, perhaps I would have reached this destined road sooner.
My choice isn't unwavering. I want to find myself some excuses—genetic determinism, for instance—something that would let me feel completely justified and at peace, because I don't have enough courage to stand against the world's malice. The outcome is unknown, but if I have a knack for this, why not try?
Even low-HP me is strong
By now my thoughts are a tangled mess. After years immersed in the internet, along with depression and the side effects of MECT, I can no longer find the full-HP version of myself. But please believe that low-HP me is strong too.
There will never be an exam harder than the college entrance exam—at least, that's how I want to encourage myself right now. My past results were already impressive. Even if I'm no longer the way I was, I can still live well.
Find a direction, and move forward.